Ghosts And Girl Scout Cookies
by MeanRunt
Summary: It's Girl Scout Cookie time, and Harry is not going to get away without buying some.


****

Dresden Files

Ghosts and Girl Scout Cookies

0-0-0-0-0-0

Just as Harry Dresden put the tip of his razor to the area just below the Adams apple, it happened. There was a pounding at the door. Harry, startled by the noise, jerked the razor. The result was one that had occurred in similar circumstances ever since the first man put a sharpened piece of flint to his bearded chin. The edge of the blade cut into the soft, sensitive tissue of his neck.

"That was not a very brilliant move." Hrothbert of Bainbridge, Harry's thousand year old live in ghost, admonished. "Now there is blood gushing down your throat."

"So tell me something I don't know, Bob." Harry retorted as he wiped the tiny rivulet of blood from his neck and dabbed a piece of toilet paper over the cut. There was another pounding at the door.

"Perhaps you should answer that." Bob suggested. "It could be a client. Heaven knows we sorely need one."

Harry reached for his boxer shorts hanging on the towel rack and pulled them on.

"I do hope you do not intend to answer the door dressed like THAT." Bob admonished.

"Of course I'm not going to answer the door dressed like this. To spite what you think, I do have a few more brains floating around in my head than the average goose. I'm going to put on a shirt too."

"Oh puh-lease. Not that disgusting gray thing you are always wearing. It should have been disposed of decades ago."

"For you information, I do have another shirt I can wear."

"If you mean that horrible yellow one with the Linguini Parmesan Marinera stains that won't come out all over the front of it, I do not think that would be appropriate to greet a visitor with either."

"Then I'll just have to wear this one, won't I?" Harry said as he pulled the gray shirt over his head and started down the stairs toward the combination living room and office.

"Harry ... your pants." Bob called after him, but Harry was already at the bottom of the stairs. "You forgot your pants." Bob only rolled his eyes and mumbled something about the horrors of eternal punishment just under Harry's hearing level.

"Why don't you just be quiet and get into your skull?"

( That remark he heard. But he couldn't hear the one about his trousers. ) "Party pooper." Bob grumbled as he morphed into a column of dark gray smoke and then poured himself into the ancient rune covered skull sitting on Harry's cluttered desk.

From the bottom of the stairs, Harry could see the upper part of what appeared to be an approximately 10 to 12 year old girl through the dirt caked door window. Under her green beret she had dark brown hair, and she had coffee-and-cream brown eyes. Over her right shoulder, a green sash went across her beige blouse and ended at her left waist and was covered with badges and pins. From her left shoulder hung an oversized green satchel with the trefoil logo on it. Obviously, this was not a client. This was a Girl Scout. Harry hesitated, wondering if he had time to go back upstairs and put on a pair of jeans. A third banging, this time more insistent than the others changed his mind.

"All right! All Right! Don't pound the door down!" He quickly grabbed the afghan from the sofa and wrapped it around his waist. At least he had covered the parts of him that could have resulted in an indecent exposure lawsuit if someone had happened to see him standing like that in front of an obviously underage girl.

"Hello, Mister Dresden." The girl said as Harry opened the door. "My name is Anna, and do you know what time it is?"

"No I don't. Not exactly. I think it's about nine thirty. Why do you ask? And how did you know my name?"

She pointed to the sign painted on the window ... 'Harry Dresden - Wizard'. "It's written right there. And as for the time, it's time for everyone to place their orders once again for those delicious Girl Scout Cookies."

"No. Thanks." Harry tried to close the door, but Anna gently put her hand on the knob and pushed it open again.

"They come in a wide assortment of kinds and flavors. I'm sure there will be one that you would just love to have." She pulled out a poster from her bag that listed all the varieties of cookies available and held it up in front of Harry.

"No thanks. Besides, I can't afford any. I'm broke."

"That's okay. You don't have to pay for them until they're delivered, which won't be for another three weeks or so. Surely you will have the money by then. They're only three dollars and fifty cents a box."

"Look. You've got a good spiel there and I have no doubt that you'll get plenty of orders, but I'm not interested in buying anything right now."

Anna's eyes misted up and her lower lip quivered slightly. "But my troop is planning to use the money to go on a trip to Washington this summer to see all the famous places there, like the Capitol, the White House and the Washington Monument, and a lot of other neat places. If I don't sell all my cookies, I can't go with them." She sniffed loudly.

"I ... Said ... NO!" Harry practically slammed the door in the girl's face.

"Harry. How can you be so insensitive?" Bob asked as he emerged from his skull. "You broke that poor little girl's heart."

"Don't get yourself all bent out of shape about it. It was nothing but an act. I sold magazine subscriptions and cleaning products door to door at one point many years ago to make ends meet. We learned the same basic tactics to sell the magazines or whatever else we were peddling at the time."

"Just the same. You could have bought at least one box of Samoas. You know, the ones with the toasted coconut and caramel in them, and striped with chocolate icing. Harry, do you know what it's like never to have tasted chocolate? Or caramel?" He pleaded.

"Bob. Even if I bought them, how would you taste them? You're intangible. You can't even touch anything, let alone eat anything."

Bob's expression dropped. "You would have to bring that up, wouldn't you?" He pouted.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry scraped the blackened crumbs from the toast and laid it on the plate. The ancient grate toaster that he found at a flea market did a passable job of toasting the bread, but without a thermostat or timer, nine times out of ten the bread came out looking more like charcoal than toast. Connie Murphy had bought him a new toaster for Christmas two years ago, but it suffered a "meltdown" the first time he tried to use it.

Life in general would have been a lot better for Harry if he could use modern appliances, but unfortunately, anything digital, or with electronics, or complex technological parts in it immediately, and sometimes permanently, malfunctioned whenever it came in contact with his aura. For some reason, he was the only person ... wizard or otherwise ... that he knew about that had this problem. All the other sorcerers he was acquainted with had no problem at all handling or using contemporary gadgets.

He slathered the "toast" with butter and put it on the plate with his bacon, eggs, and hash browns and poured himself a cup of coffee from the manual percolator coffeepot. He sat down and started to eat his breakfast.

Bob took a long deep breath. "Heavenly." He sighed as he exhaled slowly. "A breakfast fit for a king."

"And how would you know?"

"We did have pork, eggs, potatoes, and toasted bread back in the so called dark ages when I was still alive. I do remember what they tasted like, although coffee is another thing altogether. I hear that it is an acquired taste."

"I wouldn't know about that. Why don't you ask Mister?" Harry said as he pushed Mister, his large orange cat, away from his coffee cup.

Mister cussed him out in fluent Cat, and executed a perfect four-point leap to the counter opposite the table. From there he glowered at Harry menacingly as Harry began his meal.

He was interrupted by the ringing phone.

"Harry Dresden here." He said into the receiver of his rotary dial phone. "If this is a telemarketing call, I am not interested. If it's about anything else, just leave your name, phone number, and a brief message at the beep and I'll get back to you ... Beep."

"Harry." The woman's voice on the other end said. "Quit pretending. I know this is you. I know you don't have an answering machine."

"Hi, Murphy. What can I do you for today?"

"Nothing. I'm doing something for you." Lieutenant Connie Murphy of the Chicago Police Department told him. "The check for your part in the Alexander case just came in and you can come down to the station and pick it up."

"Perfect timing. The rent is due today and the gas bill was due last week. In addition, they're threatening to shut off the electricity tomorrow. Be down in about an hour."

He went back to the table to eat his breakfast, but the plate contained only egg stains, bacon grease, and a few burned hash brown pieces, however the toast was untouched, and Mister had his head stuck into the coffee cup.

"MISTER!" Harry yelled. "That was MY breakfast!"

The cat pulled his head from the cup and looked up at him momentarily as if to say "WAS your breakfast." Then he continued licking up the last bit of coffee.

"Why didn't you stop him, Bob?" Harry asked the spirit.

"Me?" Bob answered. "What was I supposed to do? Remember. I can't touch anything. I did yell at him though, but I got the same response you did."

"At least he left me the toast." Harry picked up a piece and took a bite. He made a scowling face and promptly spit it out into a paper napkin. "Now I see why." He said as he threw the toast into the trash bin.

"Well, you can always make yourself another breakfast."

"No time. I have to go downtown to pick up the check from the police department for my part in the Alexander case."

"Alexander case? I recall reading something about that in the Tribune. Over your shoulder, of course.

Wasn't he that nutcase who escaped from a sanitarium and held the audience of the Shakespeare Theater at the Navy Pier hostage? I still don't understand why you were called in on the case? According to the paper, there wasn't anything that unusual about it."

"That's where you're wrong. Almost everything in the paper was a sanitized version given to them by Morgan and several of the other Wardens from the High Council. In the first place, Alexander was a renegade wizard who had delusions of being a Shakespearean actor. He used a thrall spell to hold the audience at the theater captive while he read the entire script of Macbeth. Several times. Thrall spells are expressly forbidden by the laws of magic. The only problem is that he stunk. Both figuratively and literally. One of the by-products of the spell that he used is a strong pungent odor that filled the theater.

It was my job to keep anyone from being hurt or even aware of what was truly going on, while Morgan and the other Wardens took care of him. When they had him safely contained, they convinced everyone that Alexander had been taken back to the 'home'. The putrid odor was attributed to a broken septic pipe in the men's room. At least that was the story that was printed in the paper."

Harry started to the door with Mister following, meowing loudly.

"Oh no you don't. You are not going out." Harry told the cat. This only caused Mister to meow even louder.

"Okay. You can come. But so help me, if you're seen messing with that Persian show cat down the street one more time, you're going to the vet's ... this time for sure. Understood?"

Mister nodded as if he had understood everything Harry had said, and Harry opened the door. The cat took off in a shot, heading in the general direction of Princess the show cat's house.

"You're going to take Mister to the vet?" Bob asked. "Is he sick?"

"No. He's not sick. I'm going to have him fixed."

"But you just said he wasn't sick. If that's the case, then what needs fixing?"

"Not that kind of fixed. Neutered."

"Neutered?"

Harry drew a line across his groin with his index finger. "Q-R-X-X-X-T"

Bob's eyes went wide and he cupped his hands to his crotch. "O-o-o-h!"

0-0-0-0-0-0

As Harry entered the police station, he was greeted by the sight of a 10 to 12 year old Girl Scout taking an order for cookies from the Desk Officer. It was the same Girl Scout that had visited him at his home. As soon as she saw Harry, she ran to him.

"Hi, Mister Dresden." She called. "Do you remember me? Anna?"

"Yes, I do. You're the little girl who tried to talk me into buying those Girl Scout cookies earlier today."

"Uh huh. And are you ready to buy now?"

"No. I'm still broke."

Just then Lieutenant Connie Murphy came into the reception area of the precinct.

"I see you've met my daughter Anna." Murphy said, pointing to the little girl. "Anna. This is Harry Dresden."

"Pleased to meet you, Sir." Anna said holding out her hand and curtseying slightly. "My mother has told me a lot about what a wonderful and caring person you are. How you have such kindness and compassion for little children." She held up the order form.

"And I'm still broke." ( Murphy had better keep a close eye on her daughter. This little girl has all the makings of a first class con artist. )

"I may be able to fix that." Murphy said holding a check to Harry. "The Commissioner was impressed with your handling of the Alexander case. It could have gotten very ugly, considering how unstable Alexander was. You kept him occupied until those men from the home came to take him back. That was no small feat, considering how disoriented he was. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you had hypnotized him."

( Not exactly. It was Alexander who had 'hypnotized' the entire audience. I only used a little mind control on him. ) Harry took the check and studied it. It was enough to pay the rent and the back utilities bills and perhaps provide food for a couple of weeks, but not much more. "I'd really like to buy some cookies from your daughter." Harry said, folding the check and putting it into his jacket pocket. "But not right now. If I do have any money left over, I will definitely buy some." He looked directly at Anna. "I promise."

"Cross your heart?" Anna asked.

Harry looked at Murphy, who was watching him intently. ( Now I am definitely between the proverbial rock and the hard place. Council law mandates that a cross-your-heart promise be respected no matter what. Even to death. ) He took a deep breath. "Cross my heart." He said, making a cross on his chest with his right hand. ( So what if I have to give up food for a few days? I can always eat the cookies. )

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry felt something sharp in his back right between his shoulder blades. It could only have been the tip of a sword. That, and the distinct aroma of Old Spice after shave could mean only one thing. Morgan. His not-so-favorite Chief Council Warden. The Warden had apparently dropped in, unannounced, for a 'visit'. But then, Harry never did know when Ancient Mai's second in command was likely to 'visit'.

"I have only one sentence for you. Mai wants to see you. Now." Morgan told Harry. He punctuated his remark with a slight jab of the sword.

Okay. If you want to get technical, that was two sentences, maybe even three, but Harry was not about to quibble with the Warden. Morgan seemed to take a perverted pleasure in scaring the beejeebers out of Harry. Morgan could have been joking, but Harry was nearly 110 percent sure that Morgan was not joking. The anal retentive Warden clearly lacked the humor gene.

.

He turned to greet Morgan, but the Warden was gone.

********

Ancient Mai sat at her usual table at Golden Dragon Restaurant. It was a favorite hangout for most of sorcerers in the Greater Chicago area. It was rumored, but never proven, that Mai was the actual owner of the place, and that Wong Leu, another of the Chicago wizards, whose name was on the incorporation papers, was only a front. Regardless of who owned it, Ancient Mai treated it as her unofficial 'office'.

Harry Dresden came into the restaurant. Not that he was a particular fan of Chinese cooking, but when one is summoned by the head of the High Council of Wizards, one does not refuse. And Ancient Mai was the head of the High Council for this part of the world. Harry was not sure how large of an area she presided over, but he was not one to ask questions.

As Harry approached her table, it was clear that Ancient Mai was not alone. Standing in front of her was the all too familiar figure of a certain Girl Scout.

"There you are, my dear." Mai said as she handed the order form back to Anna. "Four boxes of Tagalongs, one Trefoils, and three Thin Mints."

"Thank you Miss Mai." Anna said as she folded the form and secured it in her pouch. "The cookies will be arriving in about three weeks. I'll definitely let you know when they come in."

"Hi, Mr. Dresden." Anna called as she hurried out of the restaurant.

"Who? ... How? ... Why?" Harry stuttered as he approached the table.

"You forgot where, what, and when." Mai said slightly sarcastically.

"I mean what was she doing here?"

"You know her?"

"Yeah. She's the daughter of one of the police officers I sometimes work with."

"To answer your question, she was selling Girl Scout Cookies."

"I know what she was doing, but why were you buying them?"

"Because I happen to be crazy about Tagalongs, that's why. Besides, I couldn't allow her to remain behind while the rest of her troop went to the nation's capitol, now could I?

Also, in this sagging economy, I'm doing my part to see that the Keebler Elves stay employed. You do know that they make the cookies that the Girl Scouts sell, don't you? It would be a severe burden on the paranormal community if they had to be laid off. I wouldn't want to see that happen, would you?"

(Does she know that I didn't buy any cookies? Is that why she called me here? )

"So you see, I'm not the cold hearted monster everyone thinks I am. I DO have a heart after all." Her looks became hard and grim. "But if you repeat even one syllable of this conversation to anyone, I'll know about it and ... " Her grin reminded Harry of a crocodile sizing up her next meal. " ... how would you like to have an extended stay in the Nevernever?"

Harry's heart stopped for a beat. The Nevernever. The most dreaded place in or out of this world. Harry would rather have a root canal without anesthetic than even think about going there.

"What conversation?" He drew his fingers across his lips and locked them with an imaginary key. Then he tossed the 'key' away.

"Good move." Mai said. "But that's not why I asked you to come. I want to talk to you about the Alexander incident."

He swallowed hard. Mentally, Harry reviewed the case to see what he could have done wrong. As far as he could determine, nothing was amiss in his handling of the case. Obviously, Mai and the Council had found something that he had overlooked. "To the best of my knowledge, I can assure you everything I did was according to the law and well within Council guidelines."

"I know. That's why you are standing here in front of me instead of my sending you to the Antarctic Circle. Stark staring naked."

"But sending anyone that far is well beyond the range of a wizard's teleportation skills."

"Any ordinary sorcerer." Mai smiled her crocodile smile. "Just the same, I thought you might like to know the final outcome of the Council's deliberations on Alexander. It appears very likely that the little debacle on the Navy Pier will not be his final acting appearance. It seems the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-On-Avon will be performing Hamlet this year. They discovered that their old skull was in serious disrepair, and they need a replacement for Yorick." She held up a bowling bag. "I think Alexander should fill the bill quite nicely, don't you?" Again with the crocodile smile.

0-0-0-0-0-0

As Harry walked in the door with Mister in front of him, the telephone rang.

"Dresden. This is Daniel Cartwright."

Harry knew what the call was about. This was the third time in as many weeks that Cartwright had called to complain about Mister.

"I caught your overcaffinated feline delinquent reprobate humping my Princess again. If there are any complications, I am going to hold you solely responsible. After all, my Royal Yasmin of Baghdad is a purebred CFA registered grand champion! I WILL NOT tolerate her being accosted by that degenerate flea-bitten mangy mongrel of an alley cat that you insist on harboring! If it happens again, I'm going to sue you for every penny you have! Do ... I ... Make ... Myself ... Clear?"

The sound of the phone being slammed into its holder nearly burst Harry's eardrums.

"I wonder if I should tell him that his precious little CFA registered Princess is also a CFA registered slut." He mused. "That she's done the dirty deed with every male cat in a seven block radius. If he wants to blame Mister, he'd better be prepared to submit to a paternity test on the kittens before he does anything."

Mister sat on the bookcase calmly grooming his left paw.

"Don't look so innocent." Harry said to the cat. "You're still going to the vet. I should've done it when you were a kitten, then we wouldn't be having this problem."

0-0-0-0-0-0

The pounding on the door roused Harry from a deep sleep. He cast a bleary eye at the wind up alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. 8:17. He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. ( I am definitely not a morning person. ) "Go away!" He mumbled through the pillow. The knocking did not go away.

He went through the hallway hopping on one foot at a time as he pulled on his jeans. He almost tripped as he went down the stairs dragging on his shirt at the same time. At least this time he would be decently dressed. "If it's that Girl Scout again, I swear I ... "

"It is not Anna." Bob informed him. "It's a young lady about 30 to 35 years old. Honey brown hair. Blue eyes. Great lips. Fantastic cleavage. Five foot six. Approximately 120 to125 pounds. I'd say about 34-25-36. Legs that go all the way up."

"Bob. Did anyone ever tell you that you're a thousand year old pervert?"

"I may be dead, but I am still male."

"Into your skull!"

"My, aren't we being ever so virtuous." Bob complained as he poured his smoke into the skull. "The least you could do is put your eyeballs back where they belong."

"Harry Dresden?" The woman said as he opened the door.

Almost involuntarily he examined her head to foot. Bob was right. Her legs did go all the way up.

"My name is Lillian Corbert. Tell me something. If you are a true wizard, can you get rid of ghosts?"

Harry looked at the ancient skull sitting on his desk. "Don't I wish." He mumbled, barely more than a whisper.

"I heard that!" Bob's voice echoed through his conscious mind.

"Depends on the ghost. Why don't you come on in and tell me your story?" Harry put his arm around the woman and led her to the couch, quickly gathering yesterday's Tribune that was still spread across the entire seating area and relegating it to the end table.

"It all started about six months ago. At first, it was just a few strange creaking noises and an occasional light flickering. My house is an older one, so I put it down to the idiosyncrasies of an aging house. Then it started getting worse and worse. Footsteps with no one there. Chains dragging. Lights going on and off for no reason. Doors opening and slamming shut. And the most bloodcurdling sounds and screams I've ever heard."

"And have you ever actually seen anything?"

"Oh yes. In the last week or so, every so often I see what looks like a thick multicolored fog out of the corner of my eye. Of course, when I turn to look directly at it, it just sort of fades and disappears."

"Have you ever had these weird incidents checked out?"

"I called a friend of mine who recommended a psychic, and she went through the house. She couldn't find anything extraordinary. I even went to the Catholic Church, but they said that without significant documented proof that the so-called paranormal events were the works of demons, there was nothing they could do. And even if there was proof, it could take years to get the necessary approvals from the hierarchy to perform an exorcism. The priest I talked to said something about having to go all the way to Rome to get permission."

"Has any one else heard or seen any of this?"

"At first, my children heard the creaks and groans, but as this ... whatever ... got worse, I sent them to stay with my mother until the situation was resolved ... one way or another. Leanne and Katie are only 8 and 10, and I didn't want them to be too traumatized by whatever was going on."

"What about your husband? Has he seen anything?"

"Sam and I are divorced. At first our marriage was like heaven on earth. Then I slowly realized that he was just like his father. That would be the late Senator Jerome Corbert. If ever there was a lying, cheating, dirty, corrupt, backstabbing, vicious piece of scum on this earth, it was Senator Corbert. And Sam is just like him. I took as much as I could from him for the sake of Leanne and Katie, but then two years ago, I realized that I could take no more. It was a real surprise to me that the divorce was a reasonably friendly one, given his dirty underhanded nature. I think it was because I knew all about the woman in the lakefront condo. At least the girls and I came out with our self-respect and dignity intact. Excuse me, there I go rambling. My personal life has nothing to do with these hauntings."

"Don't be too sure. Many times, a significant trauma, whether physical or emotional can attract members of the ectoplasmic state."

"Then you do believe me. That my house is haunted."

"I didn't say that. Why don't we go to your house and check it out?"

"Before we go, I think I ought to tell you that I can't pay you up front. Here is a down payment, though." She handed him a check for $500. "If it's okay with you, I can pay you the rest in installments."

Although he usually required the first two days at the start of a case, something about Lillian Corbert touched something inside of him. "Yeah. He said before he realized what he had said. "That's okay."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry got out of the jeep and grabbed his hockey stick. Most wizards had a carved hawthorn or elder wood staff to help ward off the negative realm, bu "Tell me this. If the place is haunted like you say it is, why don't you just move out?" "One of the conditions that Sam sold the house to me was that I had to live here. If I move out or try to sell it, the house reverts back to him. It was his waHarry couldn't afford the $1500 for even the cheapest regulation one, so a hockey stick, and a little craft enamel to paint the runes on it, was his second choice. Although Ancient Mai and Morgan were not happy with his choice, they did reluctantly approve it. He took a drumstick from a case and stuffed it in his waistband. This was his equivalent of a magic wand. Wands could run into the hundreds or even thousands of dollars. Drumsticks sold for $7.98 a set at the Chicago Music Exchange.

Lillian Corbert's house was a three story home in a neighborhood that once upon a time had been an opulent in-town residence for the cream of Chicago's gentry. It had seen considerable wear, but was still in very good condition when compared with some of the other houses in the neighborhood. The house was still a single-family house, while many of the others in the area had been converted into apartments or offices.

"It belonged to Senator Corbert's family. It was built by his ancestor it in 1875 shortly after the great fire." Lillian explained. "The Senator gave it to us as a wedding present, but when we were divorced, Sam insisted on moving into the lakeside condo just off the Loop. With his 'girlfriend' of course. I always liked this place, and he was glad to turn this house over to me for pennies on the dollar. He said he would take care of the upkeep for me, and that made it even more appealing. I suspect it was his idea of a payoff for keeping my mouth shut at the divorce hearings. It could have gotten very messy. But there I go taking off on a tangent again."

"Tell me this. If the place is haunted like you say it is, why don't you just move out?"

"One of the conditions that Sam sold the house to me was that I had to live here. If I move out or try to sell it, the house reverts back to him. It was his way of keeping me more or less in line. He never really cared for the place, and he'd probably sell it to the first bidder. I'd rather be haunted by ghosts than let that happen. If for nothing more than the moral satisfaction of keeping it out of his grubby little hands."

Harry went to the large porch and then to the large living room picture window and peered inside. From here, nothing seemed amiss. He headed around the side of the house, but the windows there were just a little too high to see in easily. He could have levitated, but there was the chance that someone would see him, and that was very undesirable.

After making sure that Lillian Corbert was nowhere in sight, he took out a small jar from his pocket and shook a small bug - a real one - from the bottle into his palm. He held it to his eye and waited until he felt the small sting of the insect biting him. He did the same to his ear. Then he released the insect on the sill of the window.

"Be a good little bug and follow Lillian Corbert around." He told the insect. Seconds later, the bug disappeared inside through an almost microscopic opening in the wooden frame. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Sure enough, thanks to the magic of the bites, he could see and hear everything the insect saw and heard. It was far better than the 'electronic' bugs used by everyone else. And he did not have to worry about it 'malfunctioning' because of his aura.

Just as the 'bug' was released, Lillian came around the side of the house. "Would you like to come inside and have a look around?" She asked.

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow." ( I'll be looking around anyway, thanks to my bug friend. )

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry sat in the dilapidated chair in his living room and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the 'bug' in Lillian's house. From what he could see and hear, there was definitely something out of the ordinary going on there. Wherever she went, lights would flicker and go on and off. Doors were opening and slamming shut, and occasional blood curdling screams and groans could be heard. Every so often a light fog would appear. Just like she said.

Harry opened a large wooden chest and began taking things out of it. Several candles, a crucifix, vials of holy water, various powders, and a voodoo doll. He put them into a large leather pouch.

"Harry." Bob said. "I sincerely hope you are not thinking of doing what you are thinking of doing. You are not contemplating on eliminating the spirits yourself, are you?"

"I doubt if Mister could do it. He lacks the manual dexterity."

"You know from past experience that the black arts can be very addictive, and that such practices are forbidden... or at the very least severely frowned upon,by the Council without their express permission and oversight. "

"You really think Ancient Mai and Morgan would give me their permission to do this?"

"Well ... " Bob cocked his head and shook it slowly 'no'.

"Then what choice do I have?"

"If you get caught, will I have to be prepared to share the space on your desk with your skull too?"

"Think positively."

"In that case, I am positive I shall be sharing the space with your skull."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Lillian Corbert was waiting outside the house when Harry pulled up. She looked extremely distressed.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Everything." Lillian replied. "I just received a letter from Sam's lawyer. According to the letter, I am an incompetent mother, and I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He claims that these so-called 'hallucinations' I have been having are prima fascia evidence of this, and he wants the children removed from my care for their safety. He wants full custody of Leanne and Katie. You have to prove that I'm not hallucinating, Mr. Dresden. You have to prove that this place is actually haunted." She was nearly in tears. " Please, Mr. Dresden. Don't let that ... that ... creature get custody of my girls!"

Harry picked up his pouch and started for the porch. "Okay. Let's see what I can do about these ghosts of yours." ( And pray that Mai and Morgan don't find out until after they've been successfully removed. ) He knew that it would be impossible for them not to know, but he could still hope, couldn't he?

As he went inside, the felt and heard the slight sizzling and cracking sound of an electronic device shorting out. He looked at the doorframe where the sound came from, and sure enough, there was a minuscule wisp of smoke coming from an almost microscopic electronic eye implanted in the frame.

"I think your monitoring device just shorted out." He told Mrs. Corbert. "If you'll give me the name of your security company, I'll have it replaced."

"That's nice of you to offer, but I don't have a security company."

"You don't have a intruder alert system?"

"The police keep a pretty close watch on this neighborhood, so Sam said I didn't need one."

In a flash, Harry went from Harry Dresden ... wizard ... the disciple of Hrothbert of Bainbridge - to Harry Dresden ... detective ... the son of stage magician Malcolm Dresden. From 'look for the paranormal' to 'look for the evidence'.

Carefully, he worked his hand along the doorframe. Sure enough, a sizzling vibration on the opposite side from the electric eye indicated another device. This one was a receptor. Although he could play havoc with electronics because of his unique aura, thanks to his father he did have a working knowledge of them. When anyone tripped the infrared beam from the electric eye, it set off a signal in the receptor. The receptor had to connect to some sort of a control mechanism. It would not be too difficult to find out what and where it was, given his particular 'talent' in that area. Now the only question was who installed it and why.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"You want me to do WHAT?" Bob asked after Harry had explained his plan to him.

"Like I told you. All I want is for you to go into the house and find all the hidden surveillance gizmos there."

"And how am I supposed to do that? You know I can't go more than fifty feet from my skull."

"That's no problem. I'll just take the skull with me to the house."

"Why can't you use the bug you already planted there?"

"Two reasons. One. It can't go into the walls like you can. Two. It doesn't have cognitive reasoning like you do. And three ... All Right. Before you say it, there are three reasons ... Three. It can't report back to me what it saw and heard like you can. Satisfied?"

"It's good to know that you realize that I'm good for something besides being a pretty face and enduring your lame jokes." Bob sighed heavily. "I'll do it. If for no other reason than to get out of this fur lined rat trap you laughingly refer to as a home."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry pointed to the lock, closed his eyes, and concentrated. Seconds later he heard the click, click, click as the cylinders fell into place.

"Why don't you just ring the doorbell or knock on the door?" Bob asked from inside the bowling bag that held his skull.

"Because no one's home. Mrs. Corbert has an appointment with her attorney to go over her ex husband custody case, and she will be gone for several hours. At least that's what she told me when I called her this morning. I figure that will give us the time to do some industrial strength snooping with no interference."

"Isn't breaking and entering illegal?"

"Ordinarily it is. But since Lillian Corbert is my client, technically it isn't breaking and entering." He picked up the bowling bag and went inside. Once more, there was a slight sizzling sound as the electric eye in the doorframe shorted out. Apparently, someone had replaced it since his visit yesterday. He was even more firmly convinced that someone was playing with Lillian Corbert's mind. Now, the only question was who and why.

He opened the bag and put the skull on the floor. "Okay, Bob. Do your thing."

Bob went to one of the living room walls, concentrated slightly, turned semi solid, and walked through it. Several minutes later, his voice echoed through the plaster. "There's a miniature projector here where I'm standing. If you look close enough, you'll see that there's a lens imbedded in one of the roses on the wallpaper."

Harry followed the voice, and sure enough, there was a small glass lens in the center of the rose. "Good work, Bob." He congratulated his 'partner'. Standing far enough from the site so he would not 'interfere' with the device, he took out a 35mm manually operated film camera and snapped a picture of the object. Then he wound the film to the next frame.

After an hour and a half, they had found three more projectors, one in the master bedroom, one in the den, and one in the hallway. Also they had located a total of seven ultra miniature, ultra high fidelity speakers scattered in various locations throughout the house. There were automated control mechanisms on several of the doors and light fixtures as well. Every one of these items corresponded to a place that Lillian had either heard or seen something unusual. Every one of these was photographed as well.

"Well, Bob. You did a very good job." Harry said as they returned to the living room. "Time to get going."

"Actually, I'm rather disappointed." Bob said as he reemerged from the wall. " I was sort of hoping there really were ghosts here. Although I thought I sensed something out of the ordinary, I couldn't make out exactly what it was. Maybe it was just my imagination. It would have been so exhilarating to meet one of my own kind." He turned to smoke and returned to his skull.

"C'est la vie." Harry said as he put the skull back in the bag and zipped it shut.

"Or in my case, C'est la mort." Bob replied dejectedly.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry pulled the jeep to the parking space in front of his office / house and opened the door. Almost immediately, two pairs of hands grabbed him and half dragged him around to the side of the building. There they threw him to the ground. One of the feet that was connected to one of the pairs of hands began kicking him in the ribs, while the other set of hands began pounding his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a third set of feet heading to the jeep.

Just then, one of the sets of hands pulled him to a standing position and hurled him against the wall. He saw stars as the back of his head rebounded off the wall. Now that he could see the face connected to the hands, he saw that it was a male face, and not a very friendly looking male face at that.

"Dresden." The man said. "My employer is very upset with you." He backhanded Harry across the mouth to emphasize his remark.

"Why don't you be a good little ... wizard ... and forget that you ever heard the name Corbert." The other man added, driving his fist forcefully into Harry's midsection.

Why hadn't it occurred to Harry that someone would have been monitoring the Corbert house twenty four - seven? Apparently they had seen and heard everything that had gone on there. And they had decided to teach him a lesson.

Harry weakly tried to punch the man in front of him, but his fuzzy brain couldn't decide which one of the two faces he was seeing would be easier to hit.

"It would be a lot healthier for you if you stuck to reading tarot cards and concocting love potions." The first man continued as he brought his knee into contact with the part of Harry that hurt the most. Harry doubled over in pain.

The second man reached into Harry's coat pocket and brought out his camera. He opened the back and took out the roll of film. He grabbed the end and pulled the film out of the canister. Then he dropped the camera and ground his foot into it, smashing it to pieces. "Especially since you don't have any proof that anything is going on there anymore."

The first man released his hold on Harry. As the wizard slumped to the ground, the second man forcefully brought the toe of his boot into Harry's temple. The world slowly began to spin, and then quickly accelerated as it rapidly went from green to gray to black.

0-0-0-0-0-0

While this was going on, the third man was busy going through the rather messy contents of the jeep looking for anything else that could connect Harry to the Corberts. That's when he saw the bowling bag. He opened it, and then shrank back. From the depths of the bag a greenish black semi transparent ... monstrous looking ... Thing ... came out. It let out a blood-curdling howl that momentarily stopped the man's heart and made his blood run cold.

The man's face turned pale. "MOM-M-M-Y-Y-Y!!!" He half whispered, half cried. He felt something warm and wet running down the inside seam of his left pants leg and into his shoe. Then he too let out a blood-curdling scream, and took off at a run down the sidewalk, still screaming. He ran into the street, narrowly avoiding several cars as he made his way to the other side of the road and continued running ... Still screaming.

Ten blocks later, he stopped running. And screaming. He grabbed onto the door of the police cruiser that was sitting at the curb. "Please!" He begged. "Arrest me! I'll confess to anything! Just don't let it get me!"

The puzzled policemen reluctantly took the gibbering man into custody.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Back at the jeep, Bob morphed back into himself, a wide, self-satisfied grin on his face.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Mister Dresden?" A girl's voice called out. "Can you hear me, Mr. Dresden?"

Slowly the fog lifted, and Harry became aware that he was no longer laying in the alleyway, but on the couch in his living room.

"Mr. Dresden? Are you all right?" The voice asked again. Slowly the face connected to the voice came into focus. At least in the eye that was able to focus. The other one was swollen shut. It was Anna Murphy.

"I was coming to see if you still wanted to buy your Girl Scout Cookies when I saw you laying on the ground around the side of your place." Annie said as she pressed a wet washrag to Harry's bruised cheek. "I've got my first aid badge, so I thought I'd see if I could help you. But when I saw how bad you were hurt, I called my mom instead."

He tried to sit up. But a sharp pain in his rib cage subdued that idea.

"Don't try to sit up." Lieutenant Connie Murphy told him as she eased him back onto the couch. "You've probably got a broken rib or two. And you might also have a concussion."

"How? ... What? ... Why?" Harry mumbled through swollen lips.

"When I got here, you were still pretty much out of it." Murphy told him. "But you were mumbling something about no hospitals or doctors, so between Detective Kirmani and I, we managed to get you in here." Detective Kirmani waved 'hello' from the other side of the couch. "I still think you should at least go to one of those urgent care centers if nothing else. There's one just three blocks from here."

"Thanks for helping me, but I'll be all right." Harry couldn't very well tell them that his 'special powers' enabled him to heal faster than a normal person might. Even as it was, he would be sore for several days. In addition, if he went to the center, there would be questions he would rather not answer. Like how come all the equipment in the room went snap-crackle-pop every time Harry came within three feet of it.

"At least let me get your statement about what happened for the record." Kirmani said, taking out his notebook and a pen.

"I ran into a door." Harry said. "That's all there is to tell." He couldn't tell them what he suspected. If who he thought was behind this beating, and the gaslighting of Lillian Corbert, it wouldn't do any good. The person would be scott free before you could say abracadabra ... or something like that.

"Are you sure?" Murphy asked. "It looks like someone beat the snot out of you. Why won't you cooperate?"

"Client confidentiality." Harry lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, but the police didn't need to know that.

"I think this is at least a case of aggrivated assault and battery, but If you won't give us a statement, then there's nothing more I can do." Murphy said. "At least promise me you'll think about going to the Urgent Care Center."

"Okay. I'll think about it." ( But that's all I'll do. )

0-0-0-0-0-0

It was a few hours later when Harry felt well enough to venture outside. Bob sat in the jeep looking very infuriated. "It's about time you came out." He said angrily. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to find a new owner."

"Trust me. This is the first time I could get off the couch without being in complete agony."

"I sort of figured that was the reason you seeningly abandoned me. I saw how those gentlemen ... And I use the term generically ... worked you over. I did manage to inflict a little pain myself. Even though it was more emotional and mental than physical." Bob told him of the encounter with the third man. "I have the feeling he is going to be in a rubber room staring at ink blots for a very long time because of it. I am just sorry that the other two destroyed all the evidence that was on that roll of film. You know that there is no way we can get it again. By the time we go back to the house, there won't be a shred of anything left."

"I know. But we won't have to go back." Harry reached into the utility pocket of the bowling bag and drew out another roll of film. "I shot the last picture on this roll at the house. What was in the camera was a new roll." He held up the canister. "This is the one with all the evidence on it." He put it in his pocket. "Now all I have to do is take it to the YMCA and get it developed."

"YMCA? Why not take it to Wal-Mart? They have a film development service right there in the store."

"Simple. The developing machines at the Wal-Marts and the ones about everywhere else in the city are completely automated. Even if I'm on the other side of the counter, there's still a better than even chance I could short it out. Then I'd be responsible for who knows how many people's photos getting zzotzed. The YMCA has an old fashioned darkroom, and everything in there is manually operated. Besides. I can keep track of the pictures from start to finish."

"That makes sense."

"My one regret is that they destroyed the camera. I found that one at a flea market. Do you know how difficult it is to find a completely manual 35 millimeter camera these days? Even the disposables have loads of electronic doohickeys inside them."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry sat across the booth from Lillian Corbert at the Golden Dragon. He had arranged through her lawyer to meet her here to rule out any chance of being overheard by whoever was 'bugging' her house.

"These photos show that there are no ghosts in your house. What you do have is a very sophisticated electronic setup that apparently has been working the doors, projecting images on the walls, and making eerie sounds whenever you are in the area."

"Why would anyone want to do that to me?"

"That's what I was hoping you could tell me." Harry said. "Do you know anyone who would have the kind of knowledge to plant these devices? What about your ex husband?"

Lillian thought for a moment. "No. It couldn't be Sam, although I wouldn't put it past him to hire someone to do it." She said. "He doesn't have that kind of skill. In fact, he couldn't change a light bulb without blowing every fuse in the house. Literally. If anything needed fixed, he'd have to call Jesse Mangielli to do it."

"And who is this Jesse Mangielli?"

"Jesse is Sam's right hand man. They met in the army and have been together ever since. Sam was his commanding officer. They're thicker than thieves. Come to think of it, Jesse'd have the smarts to wire the house like you describe. He's got a bachelor's from MIT. Sam arranged for him to go there. There's not too much about computers and electronics that he doesn't know."

"Then I guess my next step should be a little talk with Jesse Mangielli."

"I really don't think you want to do that. Jesse is from the South Side. Little Italy to be exact. I've heard rumors that he's connected with the mob in some way, and I believe them. He and his friends have been known to play very rough if somebody crosses him."

Harry fingered the remains of the bruise under his left eye. "I think I've already had the pleasure of playing with a few of his ... friends.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Go straight to the top. What else?"

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry swallowed and stared long and hard at the directory once again. As if staring hard would change the listings. It didn't. The Condo's directory still showed that Samuel Corbert occupied the Penthouse suite. Number 8501. On the 85th floor. And the only way up was ... THE ELEVATOR! There had to be another way. He thought about calling Corbert and having him meet him in the lobby. That is, until he saw that the intercom was a mass of buttons and switches. Perhaps the security guard at the desk at the rear of the lobby might be able to help him. But then he'd have to reveal his reason for being there and why he could not even use a simple thing like an elevator. ( Nah! Too much like trouble! )

Dejectedly, he turned to go out of the building. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something. A small red lighted sign over a door at the other corner of the building from the guard's desk. On it was the magic word! EXIT! ( OF COURSE! That was IT! ) All major buildings had to have at least two exits in case of fire. Where there was a fire exit, there had to be a fire stairway! He thought again. 85 floors. Even though he was in fairly good shape, it would take a great deal of time and energy to climb that far.

A few minutes later, he entered the stairway and started up. Fortunately, the guard was no longer in the lobby, possibly on some sort of errand as a result of an 'anonymous' call, so no one saw him go in.

Since it was forbidden to enhance time, he decided to enhance himself instead. That used up a tremendous amount of energy, but he had gone up 43 flights in less than five minutes. He stopped and took out a granola bar, a large bag of Reese's Pieces, and two Hershey Bars that he had bought at the 7-11 across the street from the building during his brief 'hiatus' from the condo building. He crammed all of them into his mouth and began chewing, washing it all down with a bottle of Gatorade. Then he began climbing once again. With all of that sugar and caffeine, he was going to have a helluva crash when the high wore off, but the extra energy did its job. Three minutes later, he was knocking on Sam Corbert's door.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry checked to make sure that the drumstick was still in the waistband of his jeans. He wasn't sure what would be on the other side of the door, but just in case there were any more goons ...

The door opened and Sam Corbert stood before him. This was definitely not what Harry expected. Sam was young, drop dead handsome, and with a smile that would melt hardened steel. Although Harry wanted to confront Sam right from the start, something deep down inside of him told him to play it dumb.

"Mr. Corbert?" He said as non threatening as he could. "My name is Harry Dresden. I would like to talk to you about your ex wife. I suppose you know she hired me to exorcise some ghosts that she believed were haunting her house." He gave Sam his best pitiful look. "Well, to tell you the truth, Sir, I didn't find a single ghost there. I even took a camera with me, but there was nothing to photograph. No ghosts, no spirits. Nothing. I did take some photos, but only for reference purposes. I was attacked after that and the camera and film was destroyed, but I think it was probably someone trying to rob me. To be honest, I think your ex wife is having a nervous breakdown." He paused a few moments to gauge Sam's reaction.

Sam Corbert smiled at that last remark.

( Yes! He's bought it hook line and sinker. )

"Won't you come in, Mr. Dresden? One question, though. How did you get up here without the security guard notifying me?" Sam asked as he led Harry into the living room.

Sam Corbert's penthouse condo was just like Harry had imagined it would be. Only more so. Opulent Art Deco throughout. The floor was covered with inch thick white carpeting. For a moment, Harry wasn't sure whether he should take off his shoes or not. Sleek black leather couches and chairs dominated the room, and almost everything else was either crystal, chrome, or marble. Museum quality impressionist paintings hung on the walls, and Harry was 99 percent sure they were genuine. The same was true of the statuary that graced the room as well. ( Very Impressive! ) For a fraction of a second, eleven and a half-year-old Harry Dresden stood gaping in the great room of Justin Morningway's estate. ( Yes. Sam and Uncle Justin would have gotten along very well. )

"There wasn't anyone in the lobby when I got there, so I just came up." Harry lied. "I didn't know I was supposed to check in with anyone."

"That makes sense. I'll have to have a talk with the guard, though. Now, about my ex wife. I agree with you. I think she has ... as they say ... gone round the bend. That's why I want full custody of Leanne and Katie. She did tell you that I've sued for custody, didn't she?"

Harry nodded, still acting clueless. Although it was becoming less and less of an act. At this point, he really didn't have a clue as to what Sam's game plan was. Sam was being so sweet and so nice, unless he knew better ... which he did ... he would have believed every word that came from his mouth.

"My father saw to it that the girls would be very well provided for in his will. He set up a $500,000 trust fund for each of them. They both will be very rich and I don't think that Lillian is in any state to cope with that." Sam continued.

The next few minutes were a complete blur as Harry's mind tried to wrap itself around the blindside that Sam Corbert had just given him. The girls ... Rich. Suddenly, things started to fall into place. That's why Sam was doing what he was doing. That's what Sam wanted. The money. He could care less about his children or his wife. All that mattered was the money.

" ... And so, I want to see that the girls are not raised in that sort of a household." Sam concluded. "You do see my point of view."

Again Harry agreed. ( Keep it up. You're giving him the rope. Let him hang himself with it. ) He told himself.

"One thing puzzles me, though. Why do you call yourself a wizard?"

"Oh, that. There is almost half a page of private investigators listed in the yellow pages, but only one wizard listed. Me. It's sort of my way of getting an edge on the competition. My father was a stage magician. Perhaps you heard of him? The Amazing Dresden? He once opened for Sinatra, you know."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry ... "

"Don't be too sorry. It seems a lot of people never heard of him either. He really wasn't all that amazing. ( Forgive me, father for that lie. ) But he did teach me a great many of his stage tricks. Using them, I'm able to pull off an acceptable level of so called 'magic' to convince my clients that I'm the real thing."

"That makes sense." Sam pondered a few minutes. "You know, deep down Lillian is a good and caring person. She just needs some help, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry nodded once more.

"Well, Dresden, since we're both in agreement that my ex wife deserves help, perhaps we can work together to see that she gets what she deserves."

( But not the kind of help you want to give her. Not locked up in some padded room while you run merrily through your kid's inheritance. ) "I think we can do that." Harry wanted to jump and cheer. Sam trusted him completely. "What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing that you aren't doing now. All I want is that if you should happen to come across anything that would be of interest to me, you see that I get word of it. Wait here. I'll be right back." With that, Sam went into another room of the condo.

While Sam was gone, Harry took out a small bottle out of his jacket and shook a little 'bug' out of it. The same kind of a bug he had turned loose in Lillian Corbert's house. He winced as the bug bit his ear and eyelid. Then he threw it up into the air and prayed that Sam didn't have any Raid in the place.

Moments later, Sam returned. He handed Harry an envelope. "I know my ex wife said she'd pay you for your services, but I happen to know she doesn't have that kind of money readily available. It isn't much, but I hope this modest retainer will cover your expenses."

Harry stared at the envelope. It was at least three quarters of an inch thick and when he opened it, it was crammed with hundred dollar bills. Although he didn't get a chance to count it, he estimated that there was at least eight to ten thousand dollars in it.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"You DOLT!" Sam Corbert yelled at the man standing before him.

Harry had asked Detective Kirmani if he could look through the mug books to see if he could identify any of the goons who had worked him over. Kirmani was more than happy to let Harry look. One of the photos he saw was Jesse Mangielli, and the man that the bug 'saw' with Sam was definitely Jesse Mangielli.

"Again you acted with your fists instead of your brains! And you did it without consulting me!"

"But Boss, I just wanted to make sure that Dresden didn't have anything that could come back and screw up your plans." Jesse replied.

"For your information, the film that your goons destroyed was harmless. Dresden didn't find anything at the house. According to him, there was only some interior shots of the house that he took as a routine thing. He thinks your attack on him was only a botched robbery attempt. It took all that I could do to smooth things over with him. I don't think we have to worry about him any more, though. From what I can tell, he's dumber than a box of rocks. Hasn't got a clue. Besides, he's on our payroll now."

"Box of rocks, am I?" Harry growled as he listened to everything the 'bug' picked up. Suddenly, this case became personal. VERY personal!

0-0-0-0-0-0

It's amazing what you can find out when you grease a few palms at Cook County Courthouse ... with Sam Corbert's money, of course. A few hours later, he had arranged to meet Lillian Corbert at the Golden Dragon to go over with her what he had found out.

"Five hundred thousand dollars each!" Lillian Corbert said in surprise. "I had no idea that Senator Corbert had even left a trust fund for the girls. Let alone such a large one. That explains a lot. I don't understand it, though. He's got more money that ten people could spend in ten lifetimes. With that kind of money, I don't see why would he want to get his hands on his children's trust fund?"

"No matter how rich someone is, a million dollars will still buy an awful lot of light lunches. But that's not all I found out. While I was at the courthouse, I did a little checking in with Cook County Auditors office as well. It seems that Sam Corbert isn't as well off as he pretends to be. He's up to his proverbial neck in trouble. Two of his businesses have filed for chapter eleven bankruptcy in the last year, and another one is hemorrhaging red ink. A million dollars would provide a pretty secure tourniquet. Through some not-quite-legal means, I also found out that Sam has been laundering money through that particular firm. If it goes belly up and that little piece of information becomes public, he could be spending a lot of time on the inside looking out. Or maybe even pushing up dandelions."

"I always knew he had all the scruples of a pile of doggie doodoo, but this takes the cake! Can't you do something? Can you put a curse on him? Maybe turn him into a frog or something? Give him terminal bad breath? How about making him fat, bald, and ugly?"

( Unfortunately, as much as I would like to do that to him, curses can have a rather negative kickback, and transmutation of human beings is strictly forbidden. ) "Afraid not." Harry held up his hands in surrender.

"You mean he and his smarmy partners are going to get away with this nefarious little scheme?"

"Don't give up hope. I still have a few more things that I can try." Harry said.

"And I want to be there when you do."

"I don't think that's a good idea. You're paying me ... Well, to be technical, Sam's paying me ... so let me do my job."

Lillian sighed heavily. "If you say so." She hoped that Harry would not notice that she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Once more Harry stood at Sam Corbert's door. The difference was that this time, Sam was expecting him.

"Good to see you again, Dresden." Sam said, shaking Harry's hand and smiling his crocodile smile. "I take it you found out something that I should know about?"

"Oh, yes." Harry replied. He wanted to go to the bathroom and scrub his hand until it bled to get rid of the invisible filth on it just from touching Sam. "I think you will be very interested in what I have to tell you. You see, I did a little digging after I left here the other day, and I came across some very fascinating things.

For instance, I found out that Mercury Enterprises has filed for bankruptcy, and so has Ace Multiglobal International. They did so within three days of each other. Strange that your name appears on the incorporation papers as the President and CEO of both companies.

I found another interesting tidbit as well. General Contracting Corporation lost an estimated three million dollars last year. That is strange considering that outside of your name and that of Jesse Mangielli, there are no other officers listed and no shareholders. It doesn't even have any offices that I can find, or any record of any products that it manufactures or distributes. Another fact that I uncovered is that General Contracting has been paying both Mercury and Ace rather large sums of money lately. If I didn't know better, I'd say that General is a dummy corporation. Now why would you have a dummy corporation?"

Sam's face became hard. "What business is that of yours? Everything I have done is legal and above board."

"Oh is it now? Through some rather shady sources I found out that the Mafia had been funneling huge sums of money through General Contracting. I believe it is called ... Laundering."

Sam became angry. "What kind of proof could you possible have?"

"You've heard the expression ' like a fly on the wall'? It just so happens that I had a fly on your wall." He took out a small bottle and opened it. Obediently, the fly descended from the ceiling and landed on the rim. It circled for a second or two and then climbed into the bottle. Harry capped it and put it in his pocket.

"How? ... What? ... "

"Remember I told you that I was a private detective, well, I didn't tell you the whole truth. You see, I am really a wizard. A card carrying, dues paying, wand waving sorcerer.

I have some rather entertaining theories as to where this money was hung out to dry. Could it be that you were skimming off the top to keep your other businesses afloat? Could it also be that you want to get your hands on the girls' trust fund to put the money back before you end up floating face down in the Chicago River? How close am I to the truth?"

Sam hung his head. "Too close for comfort. Does anyone know about this except you? You didn't tell Lillian anything did you?"

Instead of answering, Harry only gave Sam a blank look. ( Only everything. )

"You seem like a reasonable man. Let's see if we can come to some sort of a compromise. I tell you what. I'll double what I gave you and see to it that you never have to worry about anything ever again. All you have to do is keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut."

"And I have a compromise for you. You drop your custody suit for Leanne and Katie and tell your pet boy Jesse to unwire her house. Then you come clean to the SEC and the FBI about your connections with the Mafia."

"You are out of your tiny little mind, Dresden. Why would I do anything like that?"

Harry walked to the coffee table and took a walnut from a bowl of nuts that was sitting there. He showed it to Sam. "Because if you don't ... " He closed his hand around the nut and concentrated. " ... this could be you." He opened his hand and the meat of the walnut was now on the outside of the shell, which was still intact.

"How? ... " Sam blanched.

"I told you I was a wizard. Ever wonder how you would look with your guts all hanging out. If you don't do as I said, you may just find out." He handed the inside-out walnut to Sam. "See you later." He put two fingers to his forehead as he went out the door.

0-0-0-0-0-0

As Harry crossed the lobby, he nearly ran into Lillian and another woman.

"I thought I told you to stay home and let me handle this." He told her.

"You said I couldn't come with you." Lillian replied. "You didn't say I couldn't come on my own."

She was right. Harry had not said anything about coming alone. Maybe it had something to do with the female gene. Harry made a mental note to be more specific the next time he had to deal with a woman.

She pointed to the woman with her. "By the way. This is Melanie Wilmerson. She's the girlfriend. According to her, Sam has been promising to marry her ever since he moved out on me. I've filled her in on everything I know. She wanted to come with me too. Would you like to go back up to the penthouse with us?"

"No. Thanks. I've got another appointment." Never mind that there wasn't any other appointment, but Malcolm and Margaret Dresden didn't raise any dumb kids. He knew better than to get caught in the middle of two women who were out for blood. Sam's blood at that.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Sam went to the door . "Look, Dresden, I ... " His mouth dropped when he saw Lillian and Melanie standing before him, arm in arm. "What ... What ... " he stammered.

"Shut your mouth, Samuel James Corbert." Lillian said angrily. " And listen for a change! I know all about the trust fund your father set up for the girls, and if you even think you're going to get your grubby hands on it, think again."

Sam blanched. "I know that Dresden told you about my financial situation. I'm really in a bind. I really need the money from the trust fund. The money would go a long way to easing my situation. If you'll only sign it over to me, I'll drop the custody suit and see to it that you and the girls will want for nothing."

"Read my lips." Lillian crossed her arms defiantly. "No way Jose."

"You don't understand. Most of my problems are because I made some rather ... unfortunate alliances with some rather ... unsavory people. The money would get me out from under their clutches. I could start over with a clean slate."

"If you mean that you owe your balls to the Mafia, I know all about that. And not just from what Harry told me. I've suspected it for almost from the start that you had illegal contacts. I just didn't know how serious they were or how deep they went. You know, I'm half tempted to let Jesse and his little South Side friends take out their frustration on you. But being the good little girl that I am, I'm only going to turn you over to the DA. I'm sure that you will prefer jail to the bottom of Lake Michigan wearing cement Nikes. Another thing, I've also told my lawyer to file for an increase in Child support and alimony."

Sam looked at Melanie. "Mel." He pleaded. "Haven't you got anything to say?"

"You bet I have!" Melanie rubbed her hands together maliciously. "Does the word Palimony mean anything to you?"

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Harry opened the door and went in. "Well, Bob, that was ... " That was the last thing he remembered as something extremely hard and extremely heavy smashed into the back of his skull.

The next thing he remembered was the man with the jackhammer working overtime at the back of his skull. Then there was the sensation that he was laying on something hard. He was. It was the floor. When the rest of the world finally came into existence, he could see Morgan sitting about three feet in front of him leaning on the hilt of his sword. Harry slowly and wobbilily ... is that a word ... rose to feet that threatened to give out at any time. He took a few unsteady steps toward the Warden but was thrown back to the floor as a sudden and powerful jolt of high-powered electricity slammed into his body. Puzzled, he looked at Morgan seated across from him. Was that a smile he saw fleeting across the otherwise solemn sorcerer's face? "What the hell ... ?"

"It's not hell ... yet." Morgan replied. "But it might turn out to be. It's only a containment circle. For now."

"I don't understand. What have I done?"

"How about the black arts. For openers."

"But I haven't used the black arts in a very long time. And even then, I only did it once. And I was punished for the one time that I did use them."

"You don't consider turning someone inside out practicing the black arts?"

"But I didn't do it. I just let him think that I could if he didn't straighten up and do the right thing by his girls and ex wife."

"I know. That's why you are in that circle instead of somewhere in the Sahara Desert feeding the buzzards. Or maybe The Nevernever. Or worse. But you did threaten."

( What could be worse than The Nevernever? ) "I didn't even threaten him. Well, not exactly. I only sort of hinted at it. I only said that it could be him. Not that I would do it to him, or that I could do it. Besides, how do you know about all of that in the first place? Sam Corbert and I were the only ones there at the time."

"Let's just say we have our ways and let it go at that. And you are right. You didn't overtly threaten him, you did just imply it. By the way, where did you learn that thing with the walnut anyway?"

"In a sense Bob taught it to me. He was trying to teach me a spell to defeat an enemy without expending any physical effort. I think I transposed a couple of the words and instead of ending up with a spell for a dead opponent, I ended up with one for an inside out walnut. Bob was furious with me, but I thought it was kinda neat. I sort of filed the muddled up version of the incantation in the back of my mind for future use."

"I'm going to let you off the hook. This time. But we will be watching you very closely." Morgan placed his sword on the border of the circle, breaking it, and the force field dissipated. Seconds later Morgan himself disappeared.

"And I am still furious with you for that." Bob said as he exited from his skull. "You of all people should realize that the consequences of an incorrect spell can be extremely unpredictable. Who knows what might have happened to Mister Corbert, or to that unfortunate walnut."

"Don't get yourself into a lather. I've used that particular incantation a lots of times when I want to get a bowl of shelled nuts in a hurry. And nothing bad has happened." ( So far. )

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I'm innocent. I didn't do it. I wasn't even there." Harry said jokingly as he entered Lieutenant Connie Murphy's cubicle at the precinct. "The hamster is lying."

"You're guilty as sin." Sid Kirmani, Murphy's partner. said from the adjoining cubicle. "The hamster saw it all. And the hamster doesn't lie." He said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"This time you really are innocent. In fact you could almost be called a hero." Murphy said. "The reason I called you was to fill you in on one of your investigations. Before you say anything, I know that they are supposed to be confidential, but it seems that one Samuel Corbert came into police headquarters yesterday and between the DA's office, the Fraud unit, the State Police, and the FBI, he sang like the proverbial canary. He confessed to practically everything all the way back to Mrs. O'Leary's cow. From what he told them, they've launched investigations of nearly half of the Mafia organization along with several very high placed city and state officials as well. He said that it was something you told him that made him come forward. He wouldn't say what it was, but whatever it was, it must have scared the living crap out of him. Off the record. Just what did you say to him?"

( That spell worked better than I thought it would. ) "Sorry, Murphy. I can't tell you that. Client confidentiality, you know." ( Besides, you'd never believe me if I did. )

"Regardless. The Commissioner has authorized another reward for you. And a medal." Murphy handed him a large envelope.

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"I thought you said that all of the electronic devices had been removed from the house." Lillian Corbert's frantic voice came over the phone.

"They have. At least that's what Sam Corbert assured me the last time I talked with him in jail." Harry replied.

"Then why am I still seeing ghosts?" Lillian asked. "Last night after I put the girls to bed, I went into the den and there sitting on the recliner was a man dressed in strange clothing. Like from around the turn of the century. He looked straight at me and then just vanished into thin air. It wasn't like any of the other so called ghostly effects. It really scared the living crap put of me. This time I think I really am haunted. Can you get over here right away?"

"You mean right now? That would be a little difficult, considering I just got out of the tub. How about this afternoon?"

"Oh dear." Lillian said dejectedly. "That might be a problem. You see, I sort of promised the girls I'd take them to Navy Pier for a homecoming party. I'd really hate to disappoint them."

"Tonight?"

"After last night, I'm not sure I want to spend another night in the house until this is settled. How is tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow it is."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Harry." Bob asked the wizard. "Why are you getting out that bowling bag? I know you don't bowl. And what are you doing with all those powders and potions?"

"Because I'm going over to the Corbert house, and you are coming with me."

"I distinctly heard you say you were going over there tomorrow. Don't tell me you're going to make an attempt to exorcise the so called ghost that Mrs. Corbert claims she saw. Remember. Unauthorized exorcisms are severely frowned upon by the Council."

"Well, you did say that you sensed something there, perhaps this will be a good time to find out exactly what it was that you sensed." He put Bob's skull in the bag. "Now get in the bag."

0-0-0-0-0-0

Harry and Bob cautiously made their way through the living room.

"I don't feel anything out of the ordinary." Bob said timidly. "Why don't we just forget all about this and go back home?"

"Why Hrothbert." Harry said mockingly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared."

" Me? Scared? Of course not. I am a ghost after all. Why would I be frightened at the prospect of meeting another ghost?"

"BOO!" A voice from behind Bob called out. Immediately, Bob morphed into smoke and hurriedly descended into his skull.

"I'm sorry." The voice said as the man slowly became visible. "I couldn't help myself. That remark begged for a response. He did leave himself wide open after all." He said with a smile. The man was shorter and chubbier than Harry, and had white hair and sideburns and a mutton chop moustache. Dressed in an eighteen nineties coat, trousers and vest, complete with spats, he looked vaguely like Mr. Moneybags from the Monopoly game. Obviously this was Lillian's apparition from the preceding night.

Harry reached into the pouch on his belt and took out a handful of powder. He held it to the ghost and pursed his lips to blow it in the ghost's face.

"Please, Sir. Do not do anything rash. I assure you I do not pose any threat or danger. Believe me. I am quite harmless." He quickly backed away holding his hands over his head in a position of surrender.

Drawing on his contacts with other spirits as well as mortals had given Harry a pretty good sense of perception. He could see that this one was telling the truth. He put the powder back in his pouch.

The ghost went to the bowling bag. "You can come out now." He called. " I apologize for frightening you like that and I mean you no harm. Please believe me."

Slowly Bob's head materialized and then the rest of his body gradually came into view.

"Where are my manners." 'Mr. Moneybags' said. "I guess I should introduce myself. I am Aloysius Conrad Corbert." He made a deep flourishing bow. "At your service."

"And I am Harry Dresden." Harry extended his hand and Aloysius shook it. To Harry's surprise, it felt quite solid. "And that is Hrothbert of Bainbridge. Everyone calls him Bob."

Bob reluctantly offered his hand and Aloysius took it as well. "Could you tell me how you did that with Harry. Shake his hand, I mean. I can't touch anything. I'm surprised I could touch you."

"That's because we're on the same plane of existence. As for Harry, it was mind over matter." Aloysius said with a smile.

"And what are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Well, for your information, this is my house. I am Samuel Corbert's great-great-great ... or something like that ... grandfather. I am the one who built it in 1875. Oh ... it was magnificent back then." Aloysius got a faraway look in his eyes. "The parties. The galas. Rachael ... she was my wife ... she could bring such happiness and joy to everything and everyone. All of my children ... I fathered nine, you know. Five boys and four girls ... inherited her disposition. When I died, I couldn't bring myself to leave, so I stuck around just to be near Rachael and the children at first. When they all died, I sort of took on the role of guardian for succeeding generations.

Unfortunately, Jerome and his son Samuel have made my job exceedingly difficult lately. Of course, Jerome's father, Delbert 'Mugsy' Corbert, wasn't a very good role model for Jerome. Perhaps that is why Jerome went wrong. Mugsy was a bootlegger during Prohibition, you know.

When I appeared to Lillian last evening, I didn't mean to frighten her either. I just wanted to reassure her that she was being looked after. I suppose I will have to reappear and explain things to her and apologize to her and ask her if I can stay."

"And if she says no?" Bob asked

Aloysius got a sad look in his eyes. "Then I shall have to go."

"You mean you don't HAVE to stay here? That you could move on?" Bob asked incredulously.

"In a nutshell ... " He winked at Harry. " ... Pardon the pun ... Yes. I take it that you are still on this plane of existence as some sort of punishment?"

Bob nodded.

"Would you like to talk about it? I'm a very good listener."

Bob nodded again.

Aloysius put his arm around Bob and led him to a door. "Why don't we go into the library. We can talk there. I'll show you a few of the tricks I have learned over the years. Even the one about solidifying. They are all quite simple, really. It all starts with ... "

As the two spirits slowly dematerialized, Harry opened the bowling bag with Bob's skull in it and set it on the floor. "Have a good chat you two. I'll be back in about three or four hours."

*********

Harry hummed a lively tune as he pushed the shopping cart out of the Wal-Mart. It's amazing how a positive balance in your bank account can brighten your spirits. The cart was loaded with groceries and other things. There were two shirts, a new pair of jeans, several pairs of socks, and a three pack of boxer shorts. That should keep Bob from complaining about his clothes for a while.

There was also an assortment of cat toys and treats. Harry figured that should help brighten the cat's disposition considerably when Mister returned from the vets tomorrow. Of course what would really elevate Mister's outlook on life, he wouldn't be able to do until the stitches were gone.

"Hey! Mister Dresden!" A young girl's voice called to him. You still wanna buy some Girl Scout Cookies?" It was Anna Murphy.

He didn't notice it when he went into the store, but there was a table to one side of the exit loaded with boxes of cookies and several Girl Scouts either sitting at it or standing behind it. In one corner of the setup, Connie Murphy, wearing the sash of a Troop Leader, supervised the girls.

"Why not?" Harry said. "I'll take three boxes of Thin Mints. One box of Trefoils. And one ... no make that two boxes of Samoas."

"That'll be $21." Anna said.

"Why are you selling cookies out here? Didn't you make your quota?" He asked as he counted out the money.

"Oh yeah I sold all of mine." Anna said. "But some of the other girls fell short of their goal and so we're here to help them out. If we don't sell all these cookies ..." She pointed to a stack of boxes behind her. " ... Not everyone in our troop will be going to Washington."

"And how much would it take to guarantee that all the girls get to go?"

"About $300." Anna said dejectedly. "Of course, even with that, we'd still be close to the bottom of the board."

"What would put you over the top?"

"At least a thousand. That's what Claire Crenshaw's ... " Anna sneered the name. " ... troop turned in. Her troop is always number one. But then, Claire's got a built in customer list. Her father owns Crenshaw Medical Supplies Incorporated ... " Another sneer. " ... and he sees to it that all of his employees and all of his clients buy at least a box. Some even buy a case."

"Okay." He took out his checkbook and wrote a check. Even with this much out of it, thanks to Sam Corbert's generosity ... retainer ... bribe... whatever ... there was still a substantial balance left. He handed it to Anna. "How many boxes of cookies will this buy?"

Anna looked at the check. "Fif ... fif ... fifteen ... hun ... hun ... dred ... do ... doh ... lers!" She gasped. "Meredith! Summer! Tashia! Do we even have that many cookies?"

"Don't worry about the cookies. Just consider it as a donation."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" The girls began showering the wizard with kisses and hugs.

"Harry." Connie Murphy said when they finally ceased. "I just have one question." She held the check to him. "Will this bounce?"

"Why Lieutenant Murphy. Are you questioning my integrity?" He held out his checkbook and pointed to the balance.

Her eyes went wide as she read the numbers. "Oh my goodness ... ! Okay. I believe you. But if it is rubber ... "

"You know where to find me." He put the seven boxes of cookies he had bought into one of the grocery bags and pushed them toward his jeep, humming the same lively tune he was humming when he first left the store.

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Harry set the bags of groceries on the kitchen table.

"What delicious goodies have you ... O-o-o-h!" Bob exclaimed breathlessly as he spotted the Girl Scout cookies in one of the bags. " ... SAMOAS! You didn't forget. I can't wait to try them!"

"You forget. You're a ghost. You can't even touch anything, let alone eat anything."

"I can't, but you can." Was Bob's answer.

"And how does my eating the Samoas help you?"

"Actually. It's something Aloysius taught me. Do you remember when I showed you how not to be possessed by evil demons? Well this is just the reverse of that. I can inhabit your body ... temporarily of course ... with your permission. According to Aloysius, I will be able to feel and experience everything the same as I did when I was actually alive. Also, according to Aloysius, you won't remember anything about the experience, whereas I will remember everything."

"Is it painful?" Harry finished putting the canned goods into the cupboard.

"I don't believe so. As long as I have your permission, it should be a rather pleasant sensation."

"Well, then, when do we start?"

"What about now?"

"What do I do?"

"Get comfortable. I'll do the rest."

Harry sat in a chair and closed his eyes. Bob 'sat' on top of him. Slowly, the two merged into one being. Harry.

It was over an hour later when Bob finally emerged from Harry. "That was incredible!" He exclaimed. "I had almost forgotten what it was like to do the things you mortals take for granted."

"And just what else did you do with my body besides taste the Samoas?" Harry asked.

"Nothing. I just ate."

He looked at the table with an empty box of Samoas on it. "You ate the whole box?" That's when the queasy feeling in his stomach began to make itself known. He doubled over in pain. "Have you ever heard the expression 'Too much of a good thing?' Well, A whole box of Samoas is too much of a good thing. W-a-a-a-y too much. You didn't eat anything else, did you? Tell me you didn't."

The queasiness turned to full blown nausea.

"Well ... I did find a package of Pepper Jack cheese, some pastrami, and a jar of pickled pigs feet in your refrigerator. Since I had never tried any of them, ... " Bob's face hung sorrowfully. "I'm so very sorry. I didn't know they didn't mix very well with cookies. I didn't mean to cause you any pain. You know I wouldn't deliberately do anything to hurt you, don't you?"

Harry grasped his stomach as another wave of nausea swept over him.

"I seem to recall in my time if one had an upset stomach, Bicarbonate of soda went a long way toward relieving it. I believe the remedy of choice today is a product called Tums or perhaps Pepto Bismol. If I remember correctly, there are bottles of both in your medicine chest."

"Forget the Tums and the Pepto. It's too late." Harry clasped his hand to his mouth and ran to the bathroom. A few seconds later, there was the unmista my." Bob said. "That certainly was a unique shade of green on Harry's face. I wonder if it was the pastrami or the pigs feet that caused it?"

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****

The End?

Not if Bob and Mister have anything to do with it.


End file.
